What's the prognosis, doc?

"Ezra! Ezra, wait!"

"Why... why were you in there?"

"Ezra, I can explain..."

"Explain what? That you were with... with HER and mom is still missing? That you left mom behind and now you're with HER?!"

Ulric slowly made his way back to the castle, his head hanging heavily while the failed conversation with his son continued to swirl through his mind. There was an obvious limp to his steps with a bloodied, torn bite mark visible on his right foreleg. He paid barely any mind to the wound though, the squeezing worry in his chest far more painful than any bite Ezra could have given him. The boy had taken off after their fight and Ulric had struggled to try and follow after him for a bit, but by the time they neared the border of the pack's territory he felt like he had to give up. Ezra was faster than him on a good day - much less when he was running with a limp.

He was at a loss of what to do next and eventually found himself near the training area in the courtyard as if his auto pilot had brought him here since he didn't know where else to go. He sat down heavily next to the storage building, leaning his shoulder against the corner of it with a sigh. Ulric lifted his foreleg to examine the bite Ezra had given him, rotating the limb to get a better look. Those serrated teeth that Ezra had certainly did some damage when the boy wasn't being careful. He kept replaying the moment in his head, trying to see what he could have done differently. Trying to explain what was going on to a young man that only felt betrayal and anger, knowing there was no good answer to give him, reaching out to him to try to keep him from running away again...

His teeth grit together as he lowered the leg to the ground again, closing his eyes as his head leaned into the wall beside him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to undo everything he had done, he wanted to find Azariah... he wanted to find Aranea. Maybe that was the most frustrating and infuriating part of it all. Even after all of this he couldn't make himself regret what he had allowed himself to have the night before. He should feel bad, he should feel guilty - at least if Ezra was to be believed - but he didn't. He only felt guilty over how he had gone about it. He should have had more resilience, had the strength to wait till he found some kind of answer or that enough time had passed that it would be more clear that Azariah would never return. He shouldn't have stayed through the night and made himself more vulnerable to being caught. There were so many mistakes and so many missteps, but... it was what his lonely soul had needed.

After giving himself enough time to push down the emotions that threatened to strangle him, he finally pushed himself back to his paws and started making his way into the castle. At first he started to move toward his own room, but instead his paws started to stray from their intended path and started to bring him instead to Aranea's room. He thought about how he had left in such a panic and had rushed out with little explanation. He wanted to check on her and make sure she was alright - or that was at least the reason he gave himself as he limped his way down the hallway toward the northern side of the castle. Figuring out the line between what he needed and wanted compared to what he should need and want was becoming more and more difficult to distinguish and the pain radiating from his leg certainly wasn't helping.

Walk | "Talk" | think